Crowned in Light, Ringed In Fire
by RogueAngel1
Summary: Galadrial reacts to Gandalfs 'death' and reflects upon her feelings for her lover. Sorry guys but I always thought Celeborn was a non character, and Galadrial should have been with Gandalf. You guys can hate this if you want. I like it better then my firs


Disclaimer: Tolkien is the genius, none of these characters are remotely mine  
  
Crowned in Light, Ringed With Fire  
  
"Gandalf the Grey set out with the Company but he did not pass the borders of this land..."  
The words pass my lips and already I know how the Halflings, my kindred from afar, the dwarf, the man, my granddaughters love, I know how all of them will reply. I feel their pain at the loss of their leader, it radiates from all of them, perhaps from the Ring bearer the most, but too from Aragorn, who has long been able to endure my mental gazing. I know Gandalf the Grey, leader of the company, bearer of the Ring of fire, Istari and Elf Friend, I know that my love has perished.  
I called the White Council and I saw my love there. I saw, as did all others there, as he conceded the leadership to Saruman the white. The others didn't see the quiet gleam in his storm cloud eyes, the sparkle of defiance that is like to that of light on ice. I knew he would pursue the Ring, though the elder Istari said it had perished.  
It hasn't perished, and but for the foresight of my Grey Pilgrim, all may already have been lost.  
Celeborn knows I love Mithrander. My love for my daughter and her daughter is not diminished because my heart belongs not to their father, but even Celebrain, my beloved daughter, knew not how to share my burden. In this she is like her father, she will never know the terrible weight of a Ring on her fair fingers, she who has passed beyond the sea into the West.   
Gandalf knew. Gandalf knew of the terrible pain I bore at the expense of the Ring, of the desperate battle I ever wage against the terrible eye of Mordor. Mithrander knew the temptations of the Ring, better than I ever will, and better than I, more determined then I, ever stronger than I, was Gandalfs resolve to battle the Darkness.  
We are alike in so many ways, and yet even I who shared his sleepless nights as he paced Cerin Amroth, cannot fully understand the load that was laid on his care worn back. The restless days spent wandering the length of the Nimrodel, he would confide in me, but never everything.   
Both he and I know the pain of bearing a Ring, we both know the weariness of a deathless life, we both have felt the flesh of our hearts pierced and scarred with the loss of our dearest friends. Yet never did I fully understand him and now I never will. He is lost to me, as perhaps all is lost to us. Without Mithrander, what hope remains for those of us who still look for him at unlooked for times, to guide us, to lead us, to hold us.  
We had very little time together. After the battle of five armies he came again to my Golden Wood, and we spent the days in each others company, the nights in each others arms. Even then, his mind remained ever closed to me, or so he thought.  
Nenya is the sister to Vilya. All that the bearer of the Ring of Fire thinks cannot be concealed from the bearer of the Ring of Adamant. On those few and now precious nights that he slept in my arms beneath the silver moon of the Golden Wood, while the Nimrodel sang us to sleep, I could see into his mind and feel the innermost thoughts of his heart.  
His love for me is there, it always have been and I know that even in those last moments in Kazud-Dum his mind and heart found there way ever where they have belonged- to me in Lorien. But no matter how sweet the love we share, it doesn't penetrate the iron bitterness in his heart against the wrong of Saruman, it doesn't cut the icy fear of Sauron. I cannot help but be dismayed that the most precious gift I could give him, my love, does not counter the fear and anger, although I know that there is no salve in Middle earth that will heal these wounds.  
The last morning we had together we walked together to Cerin Amroth. He bore his staff as he always did when beginning a journey, and his travel worn rainment. We must have painted an odd picture- an old man robed in grey and a beautiful Elf clothed in white- but to each other there is nothing puzzling about what we feel. I stared unabashed into his stormy eyes and in a moment I knew that he was aware of my thoughts, aware that I had felt his heart, experienced his mind the night before. We stood for several minuets before the smallest hint of a smile played across his bearded mouth. Our hands met, the rings of Fire and of Adamant meeting with a warmth that was nearly unbearable, but we ignore them, pulling desperately on each others hands until I stand firmly in his embrace. Without breaking the gaze, I tilt my chin and he kisses my lips, gently, firmly, softly, angrily, passionately- all the contradictions of the Mithrander I love.   
He begins to walk away, releasing me from his arms, from his lips, finally, from the warm grip of his hand on mine. When he finally lets go of my hand, I feel again the weight of Nenya, that always seems lessened when cushioned in the hands that bear its brother. 


End file.
